


Down The Rabbit Hole

by keithslance



Series: Shoppers Drug Mart 'Verse [1]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst, Banter, Cashier Keith, Cosmetician Lance, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, First Kiss, Fluff, Hunk is a ray of sunshine, I'm gonna add to these tags as the fic goes on, Lance is an idiot, M/M, Nonbinary Pidge | Katie Holt, Pidge and Keith constantly want to die, Pining, Pining Keith (Voltron), SDM AU, Shoppers Drug Mart, Swearing
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-10-13
Updated: 2016-10-18
Packaged: 2018-08-22 04:39:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 12,546
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8273167
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/keithslance/pseuds/keithslance
Summary: Keith's kind of in a rut. Shiro just wants to help him out. Getting a part-time job at Shoppers Drug Mart isn't exactly number one on Keith's list of life goals, but for now he'll take it. The only problem now, besides dealing with certifiably insane customers, is the unfairly hot cosmetician who, for some reason, is determined to make Keith's life a living hell.





	1. The One Where Keith Gets A Job

**Author's Note:**

> This all started with my friend [Alisha's](http://archiveofourown.org/users/nyalance) [SDM AU](http://pining-keith.tumblr.com/tagged/sdm_au) tag on her tumblr. I remember stumbling upon it when I first decided to brave the Voltron fandom, and I immediately fell in love. 
> 
> Here is the result.
> 
> Both her and I are probably going to be adding to the SDM Verse here on AO3, and it's possible some of the fics aren't exactly going to be linear time-wise, and will have additional characters (one specifically, whom we both adore) thrown in too. What we're aiming for is just having fun with our favorite characters in this setting and channeling all of our own frustrations from working in customer service onto them, because if we suffer then they suffer too.
> 
> Welcome to hell, kiddos. Enjoy the ride.
> 
> Tumblr: @marmoraskeith

Keith was having a good night. Keyword: was.

That was before the front door to his apartment slammed open so suddenly that he nearly went into cardiac arrest. 

“I’ve got good news!”

The giddy edge to Shiro’s voice immediately makes Keith’s shoulders stiffen in suspicion. Slowly, he turns his head from where he was lifting his spoon to his mouth to see Shiro stepping inside the apartment with a huge grin. Keeping his face carefully blank, Keith watches Shiro toe off his shoes and start to make his way over. “...And what exactly would that be?”

Shiro smiles even bigger and throws his arms wide, the material of his shirt stretching over his chest as he stops at Keith’s side. He looks slightly disheveled and stressed out, a usual thing on the rare occasion that he works a closing shift, but the genuine happiness rolling off him in waves almost cancels out the lines in his face and the way his tie is skewed. There’s just nothing big enough that could’ve happened for Shiro to be acting like this, and it’s making Keith nervous.

“I got you a job!”

There’s a sudden clattering sound that makes both of them jump and look down in alarm. Keith’s spoon is now on the countertop in front of him, yogurt and granola splattered around it, some even having the gall to land on the front of Keith’s ratty t-shirt. After swiping the offending food off his chest, Keith stabs his spoon back into his bowl and turns his attention back to Shiro, who’s looking a little less enthused now that Keith has murder in his eyes.

“What do you _mean_ ,” Keith begins slowly, standing from his stool where he’d been eating at the little island jutting from their cramped kitchen. “You got me a job? I haven’t even applied anywhere, Shiro.”

“Well, yeah,” Shiro starts, beginning to trail after Keith as he grabs his bowl and pads into the kitchen to toss what’s left into the trash. “But I know you’ve been thinking about it, and–” Shiro takes a deep breath behind Keith and, as annoyed as he is, Keith can’t help but turn to watch his friend’s face turn more serious. He can tell when Shiro’s about to launch into his usual deep speech and a half about something important, and it’s always worse if Keith tries to ignore it. So here he is, crossing his arms and leaning back against the counter before raising his eyebrows, waiting for the impending monologue.

Sighing softly, Shiro’s eyebrows knit together with what seems like concern. Keith tries not to roll his eyes. “Look, Keith. I really think this will be good for you. You can be mad at me all you want for doing this behind your back – I wouldn’t blame you at all – but I really hope you give this a shot, man. It’ll get you out of the apartment at the very least, and maybe you’ll even find it fun!” Shiro bites his lip and shrugs, looking a little defeated. “Just... think about it, okay?”

Keith waits a few beats after Shiro finishes before blinking at him. “Dude, you haven’t even told me where it is.”

“Oh.” Shiro’s cheeks turn pink and Keith barely holds back a snicker.

Shiro’s answer makes Keith choke on it.

“So, when I was talking to Allura today–”

Keith throws up a hand to stop him, the gears in his head grinding and catching before starting back up again at full speed. There is _no_ way that Shiro got him a job at– “Your work? You got me a job at Shoppers fucking _Drug Mart_?”

Shiro frowns and crosses his arms. “You’re welcome, first of all.”

“Shiro, you hate that place.”

“Do not!” Shiro punches Keith’s shoulder, hard enough that Keith has to catch himself on the counter behind him. Okay, _ow_.

“And now you want to inflict your pain on me too?” Keith continues with a scowl, rubbing his arm. “Some friend you are.”

“Look, we may be understaffed–”

“–I know, you complain about it every fucking day–”

“–but that’s not why I did it!” Shiro cuts Keith off before he can throw in another bitchy remark. “I was serious when I said I think it’ll be good for you, Keith. Can you just trust me, here?”

Part of Keith wants to open his mouth and start in on Shiro about how he never asked for his help, how he could’ve easily done this on his own so he didn’t become some kind of pity-hire, but the look on Shiro’s face stops him. It’s clear that this means a lot to him, and that’s enough to make the heat that was roiling deep in Keith’s chest settle down.

Shiro went out on a limb for him, talked to his boss about his moody, impulsive roommate who can barely handle going out in public without his fist meeting someone’s face, all because he wanted to help. Keith knows he’s a pain in the ass, but even all these years later, Shiro is still looking out for him in whatever way he can. Shame creeps into Keith’s veins and weighs his shoulders down into a resigned slump. God, he can’t believe he’s actually considering this.

“You’re serious, then? You really got me a job?”

Shiro nods slowly, his eyes roaming Keith’s face. Keith knows he’s waiting for some sort of indication of whether Keith’s gonna throw the offer back in his face or accept it, so he takes care to keep his face neutral as he asks, “She hasn’t even seen me. How can she hire someone without meeting them?”

Shiro seems to puff up a little at that. “Allura trusts my judgment,” he says. Keith doesn’t miss the way that her name rolls off of his tongue, slowly, like he’s treasuring it. Sometimes Shiro is just too goddamn transparent. “Perks of being a good worker.”

Keith snorts for real this time. “Yeah, that, or she just wants to get in your pants.”

An embarrassing slew of sputtering protests leave Shiro then, dissolving Keith in a fit of laughter that only stops after Shiro gets him in a chokehold and noogies him so hard that he has to punch the back of Shiro’s knee to get free.

“Okay, Jesus,” Keith coughs, rubbing the top of his head as he gets back to his feet. “Fine. I’m in.”

“Really?!”

God, Shiro’s face is practically shining. Keith shoves at Shiro’s shoulder to make himself feel better. “Do I have to wear that god-awful shirt?”

The smile Keith gets in return is enough to make him start regretting agreeing to this.

Shiro undoes his tie with a chuckle and wraps it loosely around his prosthetic hand before starting to unbutton the collar of his shirt with his other. Now that they’ve talked through “the news”—though Keith is still trying to see how working in a drug store is good news in any way, shape, or form—the toll of the day is really settling on Shiro’s face. He gives Keith a tired smile. “Allura would like to meet you, though. Think you can come in at some point tomorrow morning?”

Keith turns on the faucet and rinses his bowl out before opening the dishwasher with his foot. “Is this one of those things where you make it sound like it’s optional, but it’s really not?”

“Yeah.”

“Guess I’ll be there at some point tomorrow morning, then.”

An arm wraps around Keith’s shoulders and pulls him into something resembling a hug. “Hey. Thanks.” Keith grumbles out a, “Yeah, yeah,” before elbowing Shiro away. Shiro just ruffles his hair in response and walks off to his room, yawning loudly.

To anyone else, it may have come off as Keith being ungrateful, but their dynamic has always been a little bit off the beaten path. Part of it is from how they were raised, and part of it is that this is how they’ve grown to function around one another. He knows what this means to Shiro, and if there’s one thing Keith actually tries to do in life, it’s make Shiro happy. It’s the least he could do after everything the guy’s done for him.

Sighing, Keith tosses his bowl into the top rack of the dishwasher before bringing the door up high enough to close it with his hip. Well, there goes his plan of sleeping the entirety of tomorrow away.

Groaning dramatically, Keith splays himself out on the countertop, his cheek pressed to the cool formica as he glares half-heartedly in the general direction of Shiro’s room. A muffled shout of “Go to bed, loser!” travels down the hall, and Keith stands up a little in protest.

“Hey, fuck you!” Keith yells back, only to hear Shiro’s faint laughter in response. Mumbling to himself, Keith flicks the lights off in the kitchen and trudges to his room, kicking at Shiro’s door half-heartedly as he passes.

Shiro’s right, though. If he has to be awake at a normal time tomorrow like other functioning human beings, then he needs to be asleep, like, now. The next few minutes consist of a quick brushing of his teeth and splashing his face with water before Keith faceplants onto his bed, blindly waving his hand around until he finds the switch for his bedside lamp and turns it off. The comforting sounds of Shiro shuffling between his room and the bathroom as he gets ready for bed lulls Keith’s eyes shut, and it isn’t long before he can feel himself start to drift off. The final thought that floats through his mind before he falls asleep is that, in the end, it’s just a job. At worst, a 15 hour work week. How bad could it really be?

-

Bad. Really fucking bad.

Keith had walked through the sliding doors exactly six seconds ago and had already been run into by three customers, manhandled by an old lady, and asked where the shampoo aisle is. The sense of dread eating through his veins thickened even more.

This was about to become his life.

Keith sidesteps a woman who is getting ready to spritz herself in the newest Gucci perfume and spins around, trying to get his bearings. He’s in the cosmetics department, if the wide array of foundations, mascaras, and every other makeup-related thing nearby is any indicator. There’s a round counter in the middle of the section and several customers poking around, looking nearly as lost as he is.

“Ma’am,” a firm voice says from behind Keith. “That perfume was in the locked showcase and I’m the only one with the key, so I’m sure you know that my first question is going to be just how you managed to get that out without me noticing, followed by me asking you to _not_ douse the entire store with the contents of that bottle, even though it seems like you’ve already done that.”

Keith looks over his shoulder and sees a tall guy in a black uniform standing in front of the woman holding the perfume that Keith narrowly avoided getting sprayed with. This confrontation should’ve been enough to encourage Keith to start walking down another aisle to avoid getting stuck in the middle of it, except that something catches his attention and stops him in his tracks.

The guy is wearing makeup.

Not like scene-kid-scraping-eyeliner-onto-his-bottom-lid kind of makeup, but like. Professional makeup. Makeup that looks like it takes time. _Hours_ , probably. There’s stuff on his cheeks and eyelids and mouth that Keith probably doesn’t even know the name of. And… he looks _good_.

Keith can feel the blush starting to heat his cheeks and neck, but he can’t seem to stop staring. The lady and the guy are arguing now, and he’s taken the perfume bottle out of her hands. She looks about ready to smack the guy with her purse, and part of Keith kind of hopes she will, just for entertainment value.

“Do I need to call security?” The guy’s saying now, his perfectly manicured eyebrows furrowing as he frowns. The woman replies with some particularly colorful language before storming off. The grip on her purse still hints at a desire to beat the perfume guy around the head, but apparently she thinks better of it and leaves the store.

With a heavy sigh, the guy turns and walks over to what Keith assumes is the locked showcase, because he produces a key to open one of the glass doors. After placing the perfume back inside and locking it shut again, the guy raises both hands to his face, looking like he wants to drag his palms down his cheeks with leftover frustration from his interaction with the crazy lady. Apparently, he thinks better of it, drops his hands to his hips, and lets out another sigh instead.

That’s when he notices that Keith is watching him.

Keith freezes, his shoulders stiffening as he tries to drag his gaze away, to act like he wasn’t being a friggin’ _creep_ , but there’s a shift in the guy’s face that suddenly leaves Keith feeling like he isn’t weirded out. The… the dude is _smirking_ at him. He’s cocked his hips like he’s posing on a runway and, holy shit, did he just flutter his eyelashes at Keith?

Holy _shit_.

He needs to get out of here.

Keith’s body listens for once, his muscles urging his feet to turn him around and walk him down the aisle closest to him, but not before he offers the guy what is probably the most pathetic smile of his lifetime.

Great.

Rubbing his forehead, Keith maneuvers himself around several customers who are milling around until he sees the cash desk. He’s just about to make his way up another aisle to get to it when he suddenly feels a hand clap down on his shoulder, spinning him around.

“Keith!”

"Shiro," Keith breathes, one hand clutching his chest as he prays that his heartrate will settle down. "Hey."

"I saw you on the monitors wandering around like a lost puppy, so I figured I'd come save you the trouble."

Shiro's grinning and, in all honesty, probably trying to joke around, but Keith's brain is still fried from staring too long at that makeup guy, so he's struggling to respond. The best he comes up with is, "Uh, yeah." Shiro looks at Keith like he's growing another head out of his neck. 

Finally, his synapses start firing again. "So, where's Allura?" 

Shiro blinks, then squeezes Keith's shoulder. "Right, yeah. I'll show you to her office, just follow me."

The two of them slowly make their way to the back where the pharmacy is. A few female customers stop Shiro, but only after ogling at his name tag (read: chest), to ask him where to find certain items. He's kind to each one in turn, smiling and pointing while explaining which way to get to whatever it is they need. His patience is admirable, something Keith has always sought to learn and reflect in all the years he's known him, but it continues to elude him to this day. He wonders just how in the hell he's going to manage dealing with hundreds of customers asking stupid questions for hours on end.

Once the customers are taken care of, Shiro points at a door set just to the side of the pharmacy counter and starts talking to Keith. "This is Allura's office. Usually, it's just her, Coran, and I that go in and out of here. She also is the head of pharmacy, so she'll usually be around here if you ever need to talk to her." At this point, Shiro turns and raises his hand over his head, a genuine smile spreading across his face. "Allura! Keith's here."

Keith follows Shiro's gaze and sees a woman pop her head over the counter, her face brightening. To say that she's beautiful is an understatement. Her silver hair piled into a high bun on the top of her head, the brown tone of her skin stands out perfectly from her pharmacist's coat, and she isn't wearing any makeup, from what Keith can see. No wonder Shiro's so in love with her. Idly, Keith wonders how Shiro gets any work done around here.

"Oh, wonderful!" Allura chirps, waving enthusiastically. "Just give me a moment, I've got to finish filling this prescription. I'll be right out!" 

"N-No problem!" Shiro stutters back. Allura ducks back into the pharmacy, freeing Shiro to focus his gaze back on Keith, who's staring at him with a raised brow. Shiro blinks at him, his cheeks flushed a pleasant pink. "What?"

"Dude," Keith snorts. "You've got it  _bad_." 

There's a definite smack that fills the air as Shiro's fist hits Keith's shoulder. 

" _Ow_!"

"Oh, shut up, you baby."

The door to the pharmacy suddenly leaps open, prompting Keith to whip his hands behind his back instead of around Shiro's neck to strangle him like he really wants to. Allura walks right up to Keith, her arm already extended in anticipation of their handshake and a firm smile on her face. She looks kind, but there's something strong about her too, something that tells Keith that he wouldn't want to cross her on a bad day. He files that away in his head for future reference.

"It's so nice to finally meet you, Keith. I've heard all about you from Shiro, and I really appreciate you coming in today to speak with me."

"Hi," Keith says, clearing his throat before taking clasping his palm against hers. Her grip is strong. A small smile pulls at the edge of Keith's mouth as his eyes meet hers. "Good to meet you too." A sidelong glance Shiro's way tells him that he's watching their interaction very carefully. Smiling even bigger, Keith turns his attention back to Allura. "I've heard a lot about _you_  too."

" _Okay_!" Shiro says loudly, clapping his hands together before placing them on Keith and Allura's shoulders. "Maybe we should go into your office, Allura?"

The light blush across Allura's cheeks is unmistakeable, but she quickly accommodates, laughing lightly as she retracts her hand and gestures for them to move in that direction. Shiro and Keith follow her as she leads them into her office before she offers them both seats. After shutting the door behind them, she takes one herself and claps both of her hands together, still grinning. "So. Keith! Do tell me a bit about yourself!"

Keith bites his bottom lip, his fingers nervously scratching at the worn spot in his jeans on his left kneecap. "Um." Don't say that you need a job. "I'm... uhhhhh."

Allura blinks at him a moment before she turns to Shiro, her smile softening a little. "Shiro, would you mind excusing us? I think I'd like to speak to Keith alone for a bit."

Nodding a little too quickly, Shiro rises to his feet. "Yeah, of course! I'll be on the floor if you need me." Keith feels a light nudge at his shoulder and looks up. Shiro gives him a wink. "Try not to screw it up before you're even hired, huh?"

Heat floods Keith's cheeks and he opens his mouth to tell Shiro exactly where he can shove his encouraging words, but Shiro seems to know exactly how Keith would react because he's out the door not a second later, leaving Keith flustered and Allura giggling. 

"You two act like brothers," Allura comments, easing back in her chair. "And from what I understand, that's almost the case?"

Keith's throat unexpectedly tightens. Swallowing hard, Keith waits until he's sure his words won't stumble before he replies. "Yeah, something like that."

Allura props her elbow on the arm of the chair and lets her cheek rest against her fist, a tiny yet graceful smile still on her face. "Shiro cares deeply about you. It's clear every time he's ever spoken to me about the two of you. And talking to you now, I can see it goes both ways." Her smile grows. "I'm glad."

The ever-constant buzzing deep in Keith's chest starts swirling harder as it does whenever someone talks to him about Shiro. There's so much that can't ever be put to words, can't ever be explained to someone who isn't either him or Shiro. What they both went through together, are  _still_ going through together, is enough to face in Keith's everyday life without someone else talking to him about it. But he knows Allura doesn't mean anything by bringing it up. It sounded more of an observation, and besides, the tone of her voice is so clearly verging on  _fond_ that it seems this was more about her wanting to confirm that Shiro's... whatever for Keith is reciprocated. 

"He's... He's a good guy," Keith says, then winces, looking down at his feet. That sounded rough. When he opens his mouth to try and rectify it, though, all that comes out is a tidal wave he hadn't even known had been building inside of him. "I mean, Shiro-Shiro's always looking out for me in some way. And this was... I didn't ask for him to get me a job, okay? I don't want you to think that. Or that I couldn't have done it myself or something. And I appreciate him doing it, don't get me wrong, I-I  _need_ a job right now, but what I don't need is for this to be a pity-hire. If you look at my resume and actually think I'd be someone you'd want to have around, then that works for me. If not, then that's fine, too. You don't owe either of us anything, and I just needed that out on the table before this goes any further."

When Keith finally feels like he's finished having his out-of-body experience, he sucks in a deep breath and raises his eyes to meet Allura's. The look on her face is enough to surprise him into sitting up a little straighter. She's still smiling and something in the lift of her brows makes Keith feel like he's just passed a test he hadn't even known he was taking.

"That's good enough for me, Keith." Allura's smile widens into a grin. "I wouldn't have told Shiro I was interested in hiring you if I hadn't liked your resume. Trust me." She pauses. "Plus, we're so short-staffed right now that I'd probably take a homeless man off the streets, I'm that desperate." That forces an unexpected laugh out of Keith's throat, surprising them both. "Besides," Allura continues, leisurely turning herself left and right in her chair using the toes of her shoes. "I was more looking to feel out how you were as a person than anything else. I have a feeling you're going to get along well with most of our other employees." She taps her finger on her chin for a moment before nodding certainly. "Pidge, most definitely. And that's good, considering you're probably going to be up at the cash with them most of the time."

"So... I'm hired?" Keith asks tentatively.

Allura's face brightens. "I guess you are." She extends her hand again and he takes it. Her palm is warm against his own. "Welcome to the team, Keith. How do you feel about starting tomorrow?"

 


	2. The One With Keith's First Shift

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Poor Keith. Pray for him.

****“That’s not the proper uniform, Keith, you know this.”

“You act like I’m supposed to care,” Keith replies, his voice muffled as he works the stupid gray, white, and red Shoppers shirt over his head before it settles on the long-sleeved black one he stuck on earlier.

“It’s your _job_ , of course you’re supposed to care!” Shiro yells, his voice coming out strangled like it usually does when he’s about to have an aneurysm.

Cringing, Keith turns away and runs his hands through his hair to smooth down the flyaways. “You know I’m always cold, dude. How am I supposed to work if I can’t feel my fingers?”

A sharp smack hits the back of Keith’s head, making him yelp, and Shiro artfully dodges Keith’s punch of retaliation with a smile. “It’s your first day and you’re already trying to fight the system. Why do I still put up with you?”

“I ask myself that every day,” Keith growls, trying to get a hold of Shiro’s tie so he can strangle him, but to no avail.

“Alright, alright,” Shiro laughs, sidestepping Keith’s next swipe. “Go eat something before we have to head out or you’re gonna regret it.”

Tossing an eloquent middle finger over his shoulder, Keith stomps over to the kitchen, opens the cupboard, and grabs a fistful of granola bars. Turning around, Keith looks Shiro dead in the eye, peels two of the bars open, and shoves them right into his mouth. The myriad of emotions that passes through Shiro’s face before settling on utter disgust is comical and nearly makes Keith choke on the huge mouthful currently sitting on his tongue.

“You’re disgusting,” Shiro says, jabbing his finger at Keith. “Go get in the car, you idiot.”

Keith snickers, stuffing the rest of the bars in his back pocket before snatching his wallet from the counter. After stuffing his feet into his black Converse, which Shiro has taken to threatening to burn every single time he sees Keith wears them—why would he invest in a new pair that are only gonna give him blisters?—Keith follows his roommate out of the apartment and down the the parking lot.

The unfortunate truth of getting a ride anywhere with Shiro is that the ‘driver picks the music’ rule is held in the highest regard. And Shiro never lets anyone else drive his goddamn car, so that means that Keith is constantly subjected to listening to classical music while also going the speed limit. Like, _literally_ the speed limit.

“Shiro,” Keith groans, leaning forward to put his hands on the dashboard. “It’s the fucking _highway_ and you’re going 80 kilometers an hour. You’re going _80_.”

“That’s the limit in this area, Keith,” Shiro says reasonably as the cresting notes of Mozart’s symphony no. 40 fill Keith’s ears. “Why would I go any faster than that?”

“BECAUSE WE AREN’T IN A SNAIL RACE, SHIRO, WE ACTUALLY HAVE SOMEWHERE TO BE!” Keith bellows, gripping the dash so hard his knuckles turn white. “I can’t believe you’re LITERALLY 90 YEARS OLD.”

Shiro, his hands steady at ten and two on the wheel, casually looks over at Keith. “Are you nervous for your first day, Keith? Is that why you’re lashing out?”

“Oh my god,” Keith says blankly, sitting back in the passenger seat. “You’re actually trying to Dr. Phil me on our way to work.”

“If you need to talk—”

“ _I don’t need to talk!_ ”

“—I’m always here for you,” Shiro finishes, smiling plaintively. Keith’s about to reach over and punch it right off his face.

Before Keith can formulate an appropriately sarcastic reply, Shiro—yes, Shiro, a fully grown, twenty-nine year old man—squeals and goes “Ooh! This is my favorite part!”, turning up the volume so loud that the wail of violins pierces Keith’s soul.

Needless to say, the rest of the drive isn’t exactly what Keith would call a good time.

The moment they pull in front of Shopper’s, Keith’s hand is on the door, throwing it open so fast that he all but falls out onto the ground below.

“Stop being so dramatic!” Shiro’s voice floats down to him, but Keith just uses his foot to close the door. He lies there on the ground for another moment, staring listlessly at the asphalt sitting a mere inch from his nose before he gathers the will to get to his feet and brush himself off.

“Honestly,” Shiro says, stepping out of the car. “You act like you’re a two-year-old.”

“That’s cute coming from you, Grandpa.”

“Hey!” Shiro whines, but Keith’s already walking ahead, the sliding glass doors opening to welcome him into the store. Letting out a begrudging sigh, Shiro hefts his messenger bag higher onto his shoulder and follows suit.

Keith is standing just off to the side of the doors when Shiro walks in, his cheeks tinted pink as Shiro steps up to him.

“You don’t know where to go next, do you?”

“...No.”

“So you’re regretting storming off because now you look like a huge dweeb.”

“Shiro, I swear—”

Shaking his head with a faint smile, Shiro pats Keith’s shoulder. “C’mon. I’ll introduce you to some of the others before we find Allura and make sure you’re all set up in the system.”

The store thankfully isn’t too busy; there’s just a light trickle of customers weaving their way through the aisles as they browse. This calms some of Keith’s nerves. The pit in his stomach is making it a bit hard to focus on anything Shiro is saying, and Keith can’t help the way his eyes are tracking everything in his surroundings. His mind is spinning, trying to predict what he’s going to end up doing, how to manage it, all of the little things that seem to minor but build up to be so much more suddenly weighing down his shoulders. Can he really handle this?

“Hunk!”

Keith blinks himself back to reality as Shiro raises a hand over his head. A big guy with an orange headband tied around his mop of black hair is making their way over to them now, a large cardboard box in his arms.

“Hey, Shiro! How’s it hangin’?”

Shiro grins and jerks a thumb over his shoulder. “Pretty good. Just showing around Keith. It’s his first day today.”

The words are out of Keith’s mouth before he can even stop to think about it. “Oh my god, Shiro, you make it sound like it’s my first day of preschool, _relax_.”

Hunk lets out a long snort before dissolving into a fit of laughter loud and buoyant enough that it makes Keith’s cheeks flame. Grinning wide, Hunk focuses his attention on Keith. “Hey, I’m Hunk! Nice to finally meet you!”

“Hey…” Keith says slowly. Squinting a little, he looks between Shiro and Hunk. “What do you mean ‘finally’?”

“Well pretty much everyone in the store has had Shiro talk their ear off about you, so it’s cool to put a face to the name! And you’re gonna be working here too? That’s awesome!” Hunk beams, literal light shining from his face. Keith decides that he likes Hunk, and maybe after he kills Shiro, he’ll actually try and make friends with the guy.

Keith turns to glare at Shiro, who holds his hands up in defense. “What? Is it so wrong to brag about you to my friends?!”

“You’re an embarrassment to society, you know that?”

A familiar voice pipes up just as Shiro is winding up a rebuttal, making all of their heads turn. “Hunk and Shiro, my mans! What’s hip, hop, ‘n happenin’?”

Shit.

It’s the guy from yesterday.

The unfairly attractive, tanned, beautifully makeup-ed man who made eyes at Keith and put his brain into a blender. He’s just as hot as yesterday—which, first of all, _rude_ —and he’s suddenly right _there_ , just three feet away as he slings an arm around Hunk’s shoulders. The fluorescent lights, usually one to make Keith look like death warmed over, somehow catch perfectly on the planes of this guy’s face, making the shimmer on his cheekbones brighten his entire existence, basically. It’s actually offensive. Holy shit, is that eyeliner?

“Lance!” Shiro smiles, apparently not realizing that Keith is wishing his entire body could collapse into itself until he just disappears from existence. “I was just about to come over and introduce you guys. This is Keith.”

“Oh!” The guy—Lance, apparently—chirps, finally turning to get a look at Keith. “Hey—” Lance stops abruptly, his eyes wide as they roam Keith from head to toe before focusing on his face. Keith has never felt his body get this hot, this fast. He’s worried his bones might actually melt.

A slow grin is spreading across Lance’s face, making Keith feel like he’s missing out on some kind of secret. He’s so uncomfortable right now that he actually sends a prayer up to God to just let him die from a blood clot in his leg, a bolt of lightning, _anything_ to escape the laser gaze of the hottest guy Keith has ever seen in his fucking life.

“We’ve actually met already,” Lance segues easily, his eyes dancing. “Well. Kind of.”

“What? Really?” Shiro says, looking over at Keith for an explanation. Keith just makes a strangled noise in the back of his throat and ducks his head to inspect the toes of his shoes.

“Yeah. He observed me roasting Darla yesterday—you guys remember Darla, right?”

“Oh, yes.” Hunk nods wisely. “Sticky Fingers Darla. How could I forget?”

“Hunk,” Shiro scolds lightly, but Lance is already continuing his story with a flip of his hand. “Right, so Darla snuck into the showcase and was about to go ham with the new Gucci, but I swooped in and saved the day.”

Lance turns to Keith again, smiling. “Keith, is it?”

Keith looks up and only manages to stare back in response. His brain punches the backs of his eyes when Lance moves his gaze back to Shiro and Hunk. Nice job, _invalid_. Couldn’t have used your goddamn words for once?

“Keith here was standing on the sidelines, observing my prowess. Clearly, he was so impressed that it’s even affected his ability to speak.”

“Oh, give him a break, Lance,” Hunk chuckles, kicking at his friend’s ankle. “He hasn’t even started his first shift yet.”

Lance whips his head around to stare at Keith. “You’re _working here_?”

Something about the way Lance says it makes a bubble burst in Keith’s chest, the words rising to his tongue in a heartbeat. “Did my Shoppers Drug Mart uniform give it away?”

Lance blinks at him in shock, clearly not expecting his reply, while Shiro and Hunk both burst out laughing.

“Something tells me that watching you two interact is gonna be like having our own sitcom.” Shiro nudges Keith with his shoulder, giving him a sly smile that just makes his blush come back full force. “Sorry guys, but I gotta take him to meet with Allura again. I’m sure you’ll see him around.”

“Yeah,” Lance says slowly, stepping back for their little huddle. There’s a light in his eyes and a tilt to his head as he regards Keith now, like he’s seeing something he missed before. It makes Keith want to tear his skin off. “Yeah, I guess we’ll see you around, _Keith_.”

Sucking a reassuring breath in through his nose, Keith jerks his chin at him and Hunk. “Guess so. Keep an eye out for Darla. Seems like she’s been managing to escape your _prowess_ lately.”

Lance’s mouth pops open and Hunk starts hooting, making that heat in Keith’s chest flare bright. Keith cracks a smile, his eye contact with Lance simmering the air between them for a beat before Shiro’s hand comes down on the back of his neck and drags him off.

“You have noooo clue what you’ve just gotten yourself into.” After giving Keith a subtle side-eye, Shiro drops his hand back to his waist.

“Neither does he,” Keith replies. The grin Shiro throws his way confirms that he’s right. And maybe that makes that nervous swirling pit in his stomach settle just a bit.

Smiling smugly, Keith trails after Shiro all the way to the pharmacy. Like yesterday, they meet up with Allura, and she takes Keith off of Shiro’s hands to give him a rundown of what his first shift is going to be like. She quickly gestures for him to follow her, and together they begin a tour of the store.

Allura knows it like the back of her hand, listing off the most popular items in each aisle they pass through, what times they’re usually the busiest, what sections typically need to be restocked most frequently, _everything_. It’s overwhelming. She even says this, a sympathetic look in her eye: “I know it’s a lot to take in. I don’t expect you to know all of this right off the bat. The only reason I know it all as well as I do is because my father’s owned this business for years. I grew up knowing it inside and out.”

Keith must have a semi-terrified look on his face because Allura starts laughing and gently places her hand on his arm as they walk along the fridge and freezer section. “Don’t worry, Keith. The most you’ll be doing today is being trained on cash and maybe some restocking. Everything else comes with time.”

“Right,” he croaks out. The hum of the fridge fills his ears, so Keith trains his gaze on the row of milk bags to his right. This is fine. He’s fine. He’ll figure it out all eventually. It’s just his first day, for God’s sake. “No problem.”

Allura gives him a kind smile. “Let’s go to the staff room, shall we?”

Pushing open a Staff Only door leads the two of them down a short hallway. “There are two bathrooms here. Oh, that one’s just the janitor’s closet, you don’t need to worry about that. Ah, here we are.” The door in front of them is locked shut, and just to the side is a number pad. “We have a code to get in, but it’s really easy to remember.”

At this point, Allura makes sure to exaggeratedly punch in 0-9-8-9 in slow motion, eyeing Keith the entire time. Keith stifles a laugh.

“Did you get that?” She prompts, her blue eyes wide as she stares into his soul. “It’s 0989.”

“I did get that,” he says. “You were very deliberate. Thank you.”

“Of course!” Allura chirps, straightening with a grin. She pushes open the door and sweeps an arm in front of her to invite him in.

There’s a large table with several chairs to Keith’s left, the short end pressed against the wall. To his right is a refrigerator, for people’s lunches, he assumes. After taking a couple of steps forward, he can see another room set just off to the side of the fridge with a wall of lockers from floor to ceiling.

“You’ll have to bring your own lock, as I told you yesterday, but you’re free to use whichever locker you’d like to keep your things in!”

Jerking out a little nod, Keith moves into the locker room and picks one at random, shoving his bag into it with a bit of a fight. In truth, he forgot that Allura had recommended bringing a lock, but the most valuable thing in his bag is his crappy phone and there really isn’t that many people working in the store, so if someone stole it, he’d probably be able to beat them up until they gave it back. Maybe. Possibly. Would that get him fired? He should ask Shiro.

“You… didn’t bring a lock, I’m assuming?” Allura asks over his shoulder. Shrugging, he shakes his head. “Right, then,” she says, smiling weakly. “I could try and find a spare one in my office—”

“Allura,” Keith cuts her off and holds a hand up. “Really, it’s okay. It’s my own fault that I forgot, so just… don’t worry about it, okay? I don’t have anything of real value in here anyway, and, well, you trust your employees, right?”

It’s endearing, really, watching the way Allura bites her lip before relenting, nodding at his words. She clearly cares about them, about the store, and a small part of Keith really, _really_ wants to please her. Do a good job, do something worthwhile so that she doesn’t regret hiring him. He’s sure as hell gonna try.

“Then I’m okay.” Keith offers her a crooked smile. “Don’t worry about it.”

“You’re sure?” she presses, concern evident in the wrinkles fanning from the corners of her eyes. “I don’t want—”

“Really, Allura, it’s okay.” Closing the locker, he turns back to her and shoves his hands in his pockets. “So what next?”

There’s an uncomfortable moment where Allura’s eyes dance between both of Keith’s, probing deep like she’s searching for something. He can feel his cheeks heat up like they always do when someone stares at him for too long. Being the center of attention has never been enjoyable for him; in fact, he avoids it. People in general aren’t exactly his cup of tea, with a few exceptions, and he’s always made that pretty clear. But that feeling is back, the one that feels like someone’s slowly pushing down hard in the middle of his chest, some kind of need to please Allura and show that he’s not just a waste of time. It’s kind of scaring him.

Allura’s voice shakes him out of his head, makes him blink rapidly at her until he can focus on her again. “Your employee number.” Her face smooths out and softens as she looks at him, then she tilts her head to the side. “Let me show you how you clock in and out.”

It doesn’t take too long to get the system explained to him (which is really just learning how to use a keypad on the wall that’s near the staff table) before she’s ushering them back out onto the floor. Allura points ahead of them as they walk. “That’s Pidge there. They’ll be the ones training you on the cash registers today.”

Keith’s eyes automatically find the short, bespeckled employee behind one of the cash desks. They’re currently building a tower out of rows of staples. It’s actually impressive, complete with turrets, a moat, the whole shebang. Nodding gamely, he follows her as she leads him to the other employee.

“Pidge, this is Keith!” When her words seem to fail to garner a response from Pidge, who is adjusting one of the turrets on their little creation, Allura frowns and puts her hands on her hips. Her accent thickens this time around, tinging her words with an edge of contempt. “I know we talked earlier about your training him. I trust that this won’t be an issue, seeing as you don’t seem to be doing anything terribly _important_ right now.”

“Do I have to?” Pidge drawls, finally bothering to raise their eyes from where they are now constructing a wall around the tower on the counter.

“It’s what I’m paying you to do, so _yes_ , you have to!” Allura snaps. Only afterwards does she seem to remember herself, and she turns quickly to Keith with a broad, albeit fake, smile. “Right! Well, try to have fun! Let me or Shiro know if you have any questions at all! I’ve got to get back to the pharmacy. Shiro’s been covering for me while I’ve been showing you around.”

“Isn’t that just the picture of chivalry?” Pidge remarks, earning a quick glare from Allura before she walks off with a wave. Pidge watches her go before focusing on Keith, their eyes narrowing as they look him up and down. “So. Fresh meat, huh?”

“Keith,” he says, pausing awkwardly before offering his hand. That’s usually how these things go, right? “And you’re Pidge.” There’s a brief and uncomfortable moment where Pidge just stares at him before Keith swallows and tries again. “They/them, right? For your pronouns?”

Pidge’s head snaps up, their spine immediately straightening. Keith feels all the blood drain from his face, his stomach plummeting to his feet. Did he understand Allura wrong? Holy shit, he just fucked up. Bad.

“I’m sorry,” Keith stammers, pulling his hand back. “I-I just thought—I mean, the way Allura said it—I just assumed—”

Pidge holds up their hand, stopping his mortifying ramble in its tracks. “No, you got it right.” They’re squinting at him in a way that still makes him want to shrivel up and die. “I just wasn’t expecting you to know already, so it threw me off a bit. But, yeah.” Their eyes move off to stare down the aisle Allura disappeared down a minute before. “I really should be nicer to her, shouldn’t I?”

“Um,” Keith says. “Well, she’s your boss, so… probably.”

Pidge sighs, slumping back down onto their counter so they can prop their chin on their hand. “You’re not wrong.”

A minute or two passes with Keith shifting his weight back and forth between his feet, waiting for some sort of indicator of what exactly he’s supposed to do under Pidge’s supervision. They don’t seem entirely rushed to do anything, just mindlessly toys with the staple fortress instead. Sucking in a fortifying breath, Keith leans down and crosses his arms on the counter too, eyeing the moat where Pidge is now pushing a paper clip around the circumference of the tower.

“You should submit this to the MOMA,” Keith says casually. Pidge’s sudden bark of laughter makes him jump, entirely not expecting that kind of reaction but feeling glad nonetheless when he sees that Pidge is half-smirking.

“Now there’s an idea. How much you think I could get for it?”

“Easily half a mill.”

“You think? I figured more along the lines of 750.”

Keith shrugs. “Reach for the stars.”

Pidge twists their head, their gaze zeroing in on him again. There’s something in the way that they’re looking at him that echoes back to the way Allura was examining him in the locker room. Like they’re regarding him differently for some reason, but in all honesty, he doesn’t know what exactly he did to trigger such a reaction.

Gulping, Keith reaches up to feel around his cheeks and mouth. “Do-Do I have something on my face?”

Pidge lets out a snort and stands up fully, bending at the waist to crack their back. “No, you nerd.”

Keith blinks at them, waiting for an explanation for the look they just gave him, but Pidge ignores him, sweeping their hand through the staple tower to knock it all down and start to sort them back into a box in one of the drawers under the counter. After they finish that, they put their hands on their hips and jerk their head at the till.

“So you wanna learn how to punch through some of the craziest human beings you’re ever gonna encounter in your lifetime?”

As luck would have it, an enormous line of customers suddenly appears the moment that Pidge lets Keith have a go at poking at the register. The next fifteen minutes became a scramble for Pidge to call for backup, Keith to be hip-checked out of the way, and for him to watch as an eccentric, moustached man prances his way to the other cash register and calls out that he can take the next customer. The entire interaction is fascinating, especially to watch the difference between Pidge, who is blank-faced and seemingly bored when scanning item after item, and who he learns from Pidge is Coran, who alternates between boisterous laughter for no apparent reason to sweet-talking the regulars.

By the time it’s over and the line has diminished, Keith finds himself with a faceful of Coran.

“Why, hello there! You must be Keith!”

“Ah, um.” Keith clears his throat and nods. “Yeah. Hi.”

“I’ve heard all about you! Welcome to Shoppers, my boy!” Coran reaches down and grabs Keith’s hand, pumping it so vigorously that Keith is becoming increasingly concerned about the state of his arm’s socket. “I’m Coran, one of the front store managers here. If you ever need anything, you just let me know! Always happy to help.”

“Thanks,” Keith says, carefully retracting his hand. He can see Pidge snickering out of the corner of his eye and sends them a quick glare.

“Anytime, anytime!” Coran’s grin falters to a frown, his finger tapping his chin. “Ooh, I’d better get back to the stockroom. When I left him, Hunk was stuck up on the shelves again and I’d promised to get the ladder.”

“He’s… stuck… on the shelves?” Keith asks hesitantly, trying to wrap his head around the concept and the mental image it provides, but Coran’s already whisking away with a flourish of his hand. Keith’s left blinking after him in confusion while Pidge shakes with silent laughter.

“I guess Shiro forgot to tell you that you’re about to start working in the craziest fucking store on the planet. You think this is weird? This is _nothing_.” Pidge just starts laughing again when Keith reaches up to pinch the bridge of his nose.

Jesus.

What the _hell_ has Shiro gotten him into?

-

It takes an hour for Pidge to fully explain how to use the cash register—actually, it took them twenty minutes, but Keith was so flustered and kept fucking up so much that it took an hour for him to actually grasp it all properly—and by the end of it, Keith is so impressed that Pidge didn’t lose their shit on him that he’s on the verge of kissing their shoes.

“Sorry,” Keith repeats for the thirtieth time in half an hour. “You probably think I’m a dumbass.”

“Well, yeah,” Pidge says, very matter-of-fact. Keith makes an offended noise. They weren’t supposed to _agree_ with him. “But we all were new at some point, right?”

Keith rolls his eyes, but Pidge is already moving on, pointing towards the back of the store. “It’s pretty slow right now and if Allura looks at the cameras and sees me not training you to do _something_ , she’ll have my ass, so let’s grab some stuff from the storeroom and do restock. It’ll make you want to off yourself because it’s so boring, but at least you’re getting paid to stand around and wish for death, right?”

Allura was right. Keith does like Pidge. They’re probably the only person in the store that has a sense of humor close to his own, and by that, he means that he can vocalize wanting to die and know that they’ll probably just say, “Same”. Also, Pidge is just kind of easy to talk to. It’s helped calm Keith’s nerves, and he has a stupid urge to thank them.

“Sounds fantastic,” Keith says, letting sarcasm inch its way into his voice. Pidge grins at him. “Lead the way.”

They chat about small stuff as the two of them walk. Most of it is Pidge giving Keith a rundown of a typical day in the store, similar to Allura’s earlier speech, but Pidge has thrown in with a lot more swear words than Allura would ever say. It makes Keith laugh.

Pidge is a big fan of waving their arms around when telling a story, which makes for great entertainment, and by the time they’re walking out of the stockroom with boxes in hand, Keith’s choked on his own spit twice from laughing so hard. They bump into another employee, around Keith’s age, but with stringy blonde hair and a smirk that makes Keith feel uncomfortable just from standing next to him. He quickly, and flippantly, introduces himself as Reg, and then announces that he’s got something better to do than stand around and talk, so if they’ll just excuse him, he’ll be on his way.

Pidge’s face goes stormy, glaring at Reg’s back so hard that Keith turns to watch for a hole to start burning itself between Reg’s shoulder blades. “He’s a total douchewad,” Pidge says the moment the guy saunters around the corner and out of earshot. “Don’t become friends with him. Just. Trust me.”

Keith’s eyebrows shoot to his hairline. “Uhhh. Okay.”

Pidge just cringes, shakes their head, and keeps walking. Keith follows.

A thought occurs to Keith then. “So, what exactly am I restocking?” He jiggles the box in his arms, hoping that somehow the sound of whatever is inside might be a clue as to what he’s even carrying. It’s heavy. That much is obvious.

“Fuck if I know,” Pidge says.

“You’re a great help, you know that?”

“I try my best.”

Sighing heavily, Keith sets his box down and pulls the top flaps open to peer inside. “It’s goddamn shampoo.”

Pidge lets out a single hooting laugh, turning down the aisle that they’re going to work in. “Man, Lance is gonna bug the _shit_ out of you over there. Have fun.”

Lance. Just the sound of his name makes Keith’s heart twist violently in his chest. He cusses quietly under his breath and picks up the box again, eyes scanning the overhead signs in each aisle to find the shampoo one. When he finds it, two aisles over, his steps slow automatically. Keith’s muscles are stiffening already, as if he’s building himself up to it, to even _seeing_ this guy again. God, Keith hopes Lance doesn’t try flirting with him again. He’ll probably spontaneously combust. Was any of that stuff earlier even flirting, though? Is he overthinking this right now? Shit.

 _Whatever_. Keith takes a deep breath and nods to himself, urging his legs to carry him around the corner and to the middle of the aisle where the rows of shampoo begin. He lets the box drop unceremoniously from his arms with a thump and crouches down to start sorting through the different items. Earlier, Allura had mentioned that they have to put the newest product at the back because they have a later expiration date, but does shampoo have an expiration date? Can it even go bad?

Keith is just preparing himself to have a crisis when he feels a hand land on his shoulder. He jumps and lets out a yelp of surprise. The sudden momentum has him tipping backwards from his crouch, and before he knows it, he’s sprawled out on his ass on the floor.

“Wow.” Oh, _no_. “Spaz much?”

Keith glowers up at Lance, who is standing above him with his arms crossed over his chest and a triumphant grin on his stupidly attractive face. Crap. Keith had almost forgotten how pretty Lance is. Now his face is burning bright red and he looks like an idiot.

“Well, what do you expect when you just creep up out of nowhere and scare people?” Keith snaps, scrambling to his feet. He brushes his pants off to avoid Lance’s condescending gaze, which is currently lasering into the side of his head. Keith feels kind of dizzy, like he’s half-blind, as if Lance’s face is the sun and will cause retina damage if he stares for too long. Fuck. What is _wrong_ with him?

“You’re cute.”

Keith’s head snaps up so fast that a muscle in his neck starts spasming. Clapping a hand to the spot, he tries to massage it out while struggling to not swallow his tongue. “W-What?”

Lance leans against the shelves, shrugging one shoulder. It’s literally unfair how fucking good this guy looks. He’s in all black, a long blazer brushing the tops of his thighs with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows, and his pants are straight but still tight enough to show off the length of his legs. They seem to go on forever, and Keith. Can’t. Stop. Staring.

“—ening to me, are you?”

Keith blinks, then finally drags his eyes back up to Lance’s. He looks so smug that Keith is ready to just turn around and walk away to save himself the embarrassment of even existing next to this guy. “Um. I—Huh?”

Lance lets out a laugh so pure that Keith’s insides vaporize into mush. “Wow.” Lance tilts his head slightly to the side. “I’ve never had someone so focused on checking me out that they actually forgot how to speak. This is one for the books.”

“I wasn’t checking you out!” Keith blurts, his cheeks flaming even hotter. He probably resembles a tomato right now, which is just perfect. “I-I was—”

“Checking me out?” Lance offers, leaning forward a little and raising his eyebrows at the same time.

“ _No_ ,” Keith snaps, his brain struggling to come up with a proper excuse for ogling this infuriatingly arrogant… whatever they’re called who do makeup. “I was just noticing that you… have… a stain on your pants.” Oh, _good one_ , Keith.

Lance’s eyebrows arch higher. He very exaggeratedly proceeds to stick his left leg out in front of him and scan it for said offending stain.

Keith’s about to die.

“Anyway,” he says meaningfully, capturing Lance’s attention again before he’s caught out in his lie. “You’re distracting me from work. So why don’t you just go back to doing—” Here, Keith waves his hand in a wonky circle as he tries to find the words. “—whatever it is you do.” Wow, he just really has a firm grasp on the English language today, doesn’t he?

“You mean educating and informing the ignorant masses about God’s greatest gift to Earth?” Lance’s smile is blinding, and part of Keith wants to punch it right off his face. The other part wants to do something else to his mouth, but really? _Not_ the time.

“Is that what you call painting gunk onto people’s faces?” Keith retorts.

A strangled noise leaves Lance’s throat and he grabs right over his heart as if Keith just shoved a knife through his chest. “Ex _c_ _use_ me?”

It’s then, a little too late, that Keith realizes he’s in over his head. “Uh. Well, I mean—”

Lance’s finger jabs right into his collarbone, hard enough to bruise. “You have _two_ seconds to take that back, mullet.”

Keith’s mouth drops open. “What did you just call me?”

“You heard me!” Lance’s finger returns, shoving so hard that Keith has to take a step back to keep his balance. “Whoever told you that _this—_ ” A sharp tug on the hair at the back of Keith’s neck makes him flail. “—was okay? They were lying to you.”

“What the _hell_?” Keith spits. He slaps Lance’s hand from the back of his head and plants his palm on Lance’s chest, pushing hard. Lance is the one stumbling backwards now, his face openly shocked. “First of all, fuck you. Second of all—”

“There will be no second of all,” a loud and familiar voice booms from behind Keith. He spins around so fast that he trips and falls into the shelving unit on the other side of the aisle. Oh, crap.

Shiro’s standing there, his hands curled into fists at his side. He looks _pissed_ , the scar across his nose nearly disappearing into the flush of pink that’s currently painting his face. Keith knows this look. He knows it very well.

“Shiro,” he croaks, trying for a weak smile. It drops off his face the moment that Shiro turns to him, eyes blazing. “Uh. Lance and I were just…”

“Rehearsing!” Lance chimes in. Before Keith knows what’s happening, Lance’s arm is draping around his shoulders and tugging him into his side with a shit-eating grin. “You know that drama group I’m in? There’s this play we’re doing right now, and Keith here was kind enough to offer to help me run lines.”

Shiro levels his glare at Lance and proceeds to take a long, slow breath in through his nose before letting it out of his mouth. “Lance,” he says slowly, placing his hands on his hips. “Do you seriously expect me to believe that?”

Keith’s trying to pay attention here, he really is, but Lance’s arm is bleeding heat through both of his shirts and the weight of it is making his stomach turn into a butterfly moshpit.

“Yes?” The squeak in Lance’s voice is almost endearing, but it’s clear Shiro’s having none of it.

“Keith.”

Keith’s spine snaps ramrod straight and he makes himself meet Shiro’s eyes. “It’s not a big deal, Shiro. We were just…” Keith gnaws on his bottom lip for a second, casting a glance out the corner of his eye to try and get a read on Lance’s face. He’s staring right back, and Keith is suddenly struck by how clear a blue Lance’s irises are.

“Shouting at each other like an old married couple in the middle of your new workplace on your first day on the job?” Shiro asks through gritted teeth.

“Bonding.” The word is out of his mouth and hanging in front of him like a death sentence. Keith’s eyes widen as he stares at Shiro staring at him, both of them mirroring each other’s confusion. Where did that even _come_ from?

“…Bonding.” Shiro repeats skeptically, eyebrows arching high.

“Yeah,” Keith says weakly. “That.”

“Yeah!” exclaims Lance, far more convincing than Keith. “C’mooooon, don’t you want us all to be best buds, Shiro, my man? Even friends bicker every once in a while!”

“Friends?” Both Shiro and Keith echo at the same time, giving Lance identical strange looks.

“I barely know you,” Keith reminds him.

Lance shoots him a freezing glare. “You’re not helping our case here,” he hisses back. Keith gets that urge to punch Lance’s face again. Jesus, he’s gonna get whiplash from all of these feelings popping up out of nowhere.

Shiro’s rubbing his forehead, extreme pain evident on his face as he stares at the box of shampoo that has been long forgotten in this whole mess. “I can’t believe this.”

“Shiro,” Keith pleads. “Look. It won’t happen again, okay? I’m sorry. I just—” His tongue suddenly fails him, letting the words slip back down his throat. The disappointment is evident in the lines carving Shiro’s mouth down into a frown and it leaves an ache deep in Keith’s stomach. Great. He’s fucked it up again, screwed the one thing he really had going for him in the first two hours he was here. Just another thing for Shiro to regret doing for Keith, the failure.

“Don’t blame him, Shiro.”

What?

Lance is dead serious, his eyebrows a little furrowed and his mouth set in a straight line. “Give him a break. I was messing with him and he reacted, so what? It’s not like there’s anyone in the store right now anyway. If you’re gonna be mad, be mad at me.”

“Oh, I am,” Shiro replies, but he sounds a hell of a lot less angry than before. “Believe me. But this is a two-player game. Both of you pull it together and remember that you’re at _work_ before you start fighting like toddlers.”

The jab makes Keith flinch, shame coloring his cheeks a bright red as Shiro meets his eyes before walking away. It was a personal remark, one that Shiro knows would drive deep, and not for the first time today is Keith ready to storm out of the store out of pure frustration. The thought of disappointing Shiro was enough to make Keith resolve to get his act together, but Shiro had to just add the cherry on top, didn’t he?

Shrugging off Lance’s arm aggressively, Keith stomps over to his abandoned box of shampoos and starts grabbing a row of Aussie bottles off the shelf. There are practically waves of red rolling off of him and he’s about two seconds from snapping, so he hopes Lance gets the message and—

“Hey.”

“Can you just—” Keith snarls. After a beat of silence, he lets out a slow, shaky breath and does his best to sound as civil as he can. “Just… don’t, okay?” The words he doesn’t say are bouncing around in his head, bringing on a migraine. _You’ve done enough_.

It seems like Lance can hear the unspoken words nonetheless. Out of the corner of his eye, Keith can see Lance take a step back. “Yeah. Right.” Even quieter, Keith hears, “Sorry.” Then Lance is gone, disappearing around the corner soundlessly.

Clenching his jaw, Keith bends down and grabs the armful of newer bottles from the box, shoving them onto the shelf. This really was not how he was expecting his day to go. Now he has to stand around and stew in his shitty feelings, something he does his damnedest to avoid doing on a good day, and feel guilty for the next three hours.

Joy.

-

Somehow, Keith manages to get through the rest of his shift without plunging a toothbrush through his eye.

He was pulled back to the cash a few times so that Pidge could supervise while he rang some customers through, and after some practice, it became a lot easier. It was fairly dead throughout the day, though, which meant restock became a priority. While Keith met a few other employees around the store as he moved around, he still had yet to see Lance since that wonderful experience in the shampoo aisle. Maybe that was because Keith had studiously been avoiding the cosmetics area for the rest of his shift, but that’s not the point.

Keith made it through his first day. This, he figures, is cause for celebration. As he walks towards the Staff Only door contemplating how to get to the nearest liquor store to buy out an entire line of whiskey, he meets up with Pidge, who is on their way over as well.

“You off too?” he asks, holding the door open for them.

“Nah, just on break,” they reply, sweeping past him. Together, they get to the lounge door and Pidge punches the code into the keypad. Once they’re both inside, Pidge makes a beeline for the fridge and produces what seems like a three-course meal in several tupperwares before plopping it all on the table.

“Wow,” Keith says, surveying it all as Pidge produces a plastic fork out of God knows where. “That’s quite the set up.”

“I do my best.” Pidge shrugs and snaps off the lid of one of the containers. Keith takes that as his cue to leave and turns on his heel to begin to make his way to the lockers. Pidge’s voice is quick to stop him, though. “Hey.”

Keith pauses and looks over his shoulder. “What?”

Pidge is staring down at their food, swirling their fork around in whatever’s in the tupperware, but it’s clear that they’re still speaking to him. “Y’know, Shiro’s probably feeling pretty shitty right now.”

Embarrassment slams back into Keith at full force, his face heating up as he realizes Pidge heard everything that happened earlier that day. He’s opening his mouth before he can stop to think it through: “Well, he should. Thanks for listening in, by the way.”

Pidge heaves a sigh and gives Keith a look with a capital L. They just seem tired, and a little bored, and somehow not at all affected by the poison lacing Keith’s comment. “Calm down there, hothead, and maybe try listening to what I’m saying.”

That shuts Keith up pretty quick.

“It’s clear from an airplane how much Shiro gives a shit about you. He cares, and he wants you to do well, _especially_ since it’s his work too. But try and put yourself in his shoes. Yeah, he and Allura are good friends, but she’s still his boss, and he still has a job to do, regardless of whether or not the two of you are close. He could’ve handled that situation better, definitely. But both you and Lance know that that wasn’t professional in this setting.” Pidge shrugs again and takes a bite of food. “You all have been moping around ever since it happened, though, so I can only assume you’ve all learned your lesson.”

Keith is kind of floored. “I’m… Really?”

Pidge gives him the side-eye. “You seriously didn’t notice?”

Blushing again, Keith ducks his head. Pidge blusters out another sigh. “Great. You’re oblivious too.”

“Hey!”

Pidge just shakes their head at him, looking at him pitifully. “This is gonna be one hell of a ride.”

Waving Pidge away, Keith walks over to his locker and starts struggling to pull his bag free. It seems to be caught on something, so Keith’s tugs become stronger with each one until finally, it flies out of the locker and Keith punches himself in the cheek as a result. “ _Fuck_!”

“Smooth,” Pidge drawls.

Keith pouts and rubs his face gently. “Leave me alone, I’ve had a bad day.”

“Awww, muffin.”

When Keith looks over to give them a glare, he sees Pidge rubbing their thumb and forefinger together at him. He frowns. “What are you doing?”

“…Are you kidding me right now?” Pidge stares at him in disbelief. “World’s smallest violin? Ring any bells?”

Keith stares blankly back.

An enormous groan rises from the other employee right before they start slamming their head repeatedly on the table. Obviously, Keith is missing something.

“I can’t even bother to explain it right now.” Pidge, head still on the table, stabs their fork at the punchclock. “Just clock out and leave me in peace.”

Keith is still confused, but he complies and does just that. After he’s finished, he turns back to Pidge, who is sitting up normally again.

“Hey. Seriously, thanks for your help today.”

Pidge waves their fork at him. “Don’t mention it. When’s your next shift?”

Keith bites his lip. “I think I close tomorrow.”

“Nice!” They exclaim. “Me too. I won’t have to suffer alone!”

A small smile forces its way onto Keith’s face. He has to admit, Pidge is… actually really cool. “Can’t wait. See you tomorrow?”

“See ya.”

Keith is making his way to the stockroom to let Shiro know he was ready to go when he suddenly stops. He stares at the tops of his shoes, chewing his bottom lip again as he thinks. The flare of anxiety shoots through his veins, nearly sweeping this one thought out of his head, but before he can talk himself out of it, Keith is spinning around and marching across the store.

When he enters the cosmetics area, Keith sees a woman bundling up her purchases from the counter and thanking Lance, whose back is facing him right now, before heading off to the exit. Steeling himself, Keith makes himself walk right up to the counter and slap his hand down.

Lance lets out a high pitched squeal before wheeling around, hand over his heart. Once he sees that it’s Keith, Lance’s face contorts into one of pure annoyance. “Jesus _fuck_ , man!”

“Now you know how it feels,” Keith says before he can stop himself. Lance frowns and opens his mouth to retort, but Keith shakes his head and mentally punches himself. This isn’t the reason he’s here. “Look, sorry, I just. I didn’t come here to start something. I just came to—” His throat closes up, choking his words off before he can finish. Blushing furiously, Keith looks away and coughs once, then tries again. “I came to say that I’m sorry.”

It’s evident that Lance wasn’t expecting that to come out of Keith’s mouth. His face is the picture of astonished.

“But you didn’t have to jump in and defend me to Shiro, either,” Keith adds hastily.

Immediately, Lance’s expression dissolves into unimpressed. “Uh. You’re welcome?”

“I can defend myself, is what I’m trying to—” Keith can feel himself becoming too flustered, so he starts to turn away, giving up entirely. “Oh, forget it.”

“No!”

Keith stops, his head slowly turning to look back over his shoulder. Lance actually has his hand outstretched, as if he was gonna grab Keith by the sleeve or something. Keith stares at it until Lance clears his throat and shoves it into his pants pocket.

“It wasn’t that I didn’t think you could, but… he was right that it takes two to tango. So, I guess, uh…” Lance shuffles his feet a little, suddenly looking like a young child with the way he’s staring at the floor. “I’m sorry too.”

There’s a weird feeling in his throat that won’t go away no matter how many times Keith swallows. “Um. Okay then.”

Lance’s eyes pop back up, a sudden fire flaring in their depths. “Don’t think that this gets you off for insulting me, though.”

Keith lets out an indignant squawk. “What exactly do you call what you said about my hair, then?”

Lance doesn’t miss a beat. “Fashion sense.”

That flash of annoyance is back, ready to crawl out of his mouth and start another argument, but he kicks it away. There’s something else twisting his stomach into weird shapes. He enjoys the banter, he realizes. He likes that Lance can give it back, even if he doesn’t like taking it, same as Keith.

So instead of snapping back, Keith smiles. Lance blinks, clearly confused and looking more than a little frazzled, but Keith just keeps smiling.

“Whatever you need to tell yourself to sleep at night,” Keith replies, then walks towards the front of the store, patting the counter as he goes. “See you later, Lance.”

“What are we, twelve?!” Lance yells at his back, but something in the tone of his voice makes Keith think that maybe he’s smiling too.

Keith just waves over his shoulder and turns the corner, feeling oddly fulfilled. That is, until he runs smack into someone’s chest. Hands are on his shoulders, steadying him. He looks up, apology ready on his tongue, then freezes.

It’s Shiro. And he… doesn’t look pissed.

“Uh. Hi,” Keith manages, shuffling back a step.

“Hi.” Shiro looks at him for a second before tilting his head towards cosmetics. “Heard what you did over there.”

Keith flushes. “Can you hear _everything_ in this store?”

Shiro grins back, obviously enjoying this, the bastard. “Yeah, pretty much.”

“Great,” Keith mutters, adjusting his bag over his shoulder.

They both stand there awkwardly for a minute, avoiding each other’s gaze the entire time. Keith just doesn’t know what to say. Not after it was so plain how disappointed Shiro was in him back in that aisle, not after how clear it was that he’d let Shiro down. How is he supposed to find the words to apologize for that?

“Keith.”

He manages to drag his eyes up to meet Shiro’s stare and is immediately struck by the regret he sees there.

“I’m sorry. I was harsh earlier. Harsher than I should’ve been. I didn’t get to tell you what I’d come to say in the first place, which was…” Shiro trails off for a second, then laughs softly. “Which was how proud I am of you today. I know that you were unsure about it, but you gave it a try. You did _well_. And I’m sorry I didn’t come to you earlier to let you know that.”

A stupid lump has formed in Keith’s throat, leaving him speechless.

“Seems like you and Lance made up, though, which is nice.” After a beat, Shiro makes a face. “But something is telling me this is just the beginning of you two going at each other’s throats. So just… promise me you’ll keep it tame? Especially when customers are around?”

The snort leaves Keith’s nose before he can stop it. “Okay. Promise.”

Sighing, Shiro slings his arm around Keith’s shoulder and rubs his knuckles into the top of his head enough that Keith starts complaining and slaps his hand away. Ignoring Keith’s attempts to elbow his ribs, Shiro starts walking them towards the exit. “Ready to go home? I’m beat.”

“You’re an idiot, Shiro.”

“Yeah, yeah. Get in the car.”


End file.
